the west also."

The subject became now disagreeable to Lady Moseley, and it was changed.
Such conversations made Jane more reserved and dissatisfied than ever. She
had no one respectable excuse to offer for her partiality to her former
lover, and when her conscience told her the mortifying fact, was apt to
think that others remembered it too.

The letters from the continent now teemed with preparations for the
approaching contest; and the apprehensions of our heroine and her friends
increased, in proportion to the nearness of the struggle, on which hung
not only the fates of thousands of individuals, but of adverse princes and
mighty empires. In this confusion of interests, and of jarring of
passions, there were offered prayers almost hourly for the safety of
Pendennyss, which were as pure and ardent as the love which prompted them.

Chapter XLVIII.

Napoleon had commenced those daring and rapid movements, which for a time
threw the peace of the world into the scale of fortune, and which nothing
but the interposition of a ruling Providence could avert from their
threatened success. As the the ----th dragoons wheeled into a field
already deluged with English blood, on the heights of Quatre Bras, the eye
of its gallant colonel saw a friendly battalion falling beneath the sabres
of the enemy's cuirassiers. The word was passed, the column opens, the
sounds of the quivering bugle were heard for a moment above the roar of
the cannon and the shouts of the combatants; the charge, sweeping like a
whirlwind, fell heavily on those treacherous Frenchmen, who to-day had
sworn fidelity to Louis, and to-morrow intended lifting their hands in
allegiance to his rival.

"Spare my life in mercy," cried an officer, already dreadfully wounded,
who stood shrinking from the impending blow of an enraged Frenchman. An
English dragoon dashed at the cuirassier, and with one blow severed his
arm from his body.

"Thank God," sighed the wounded officer, sinking beneath the horse's feet.

His rescuer threw himself from the saddle, and raising the fallen man
inquired into his wounds. It was Pendennyss, and it was Egerton. The
wounded man groaned aloud, as he saw the face of him who had averted the
fatal blow; but it was not the hour for explanations or confessions, other
than those with which the dying soldiers endeavored to make their tardy
peace with their God.

Sir Henry was given in charge to two slightly wounded British soldie